


You Are My Peter Pan

by NoHappyEnding, user_name



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Character Death, Dark, Fantasy, Heavy Angst, Love, M/M, Magic, Neverland (Peter Pan), Peter Pan AU, Pining, Romance, XiuHan - Freeform, lumin - Freeform, nhe, nhe 2018, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-25 00:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17714396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoHappyEnding/pseuds/NoHappyEnding, https://archiveofourown.org/users/user_name/pseuds/user_name
Summary: Xiumin could never understand how Luhan could choose London over staying with him forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** 162  
>  **Prompt:** Xiumin could never understand how Luhan could choose leaving Neverland versus staying with him forever.  
>  **Prompter:** [moxxiecity](https://twitter.com/moxxiecity) / [clandestine_xo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clandestine_xo)  
>  **Pairing/Main character(s):** Xiumin/Luhan  
>  **Word count:** 4.2K  
>  **Warning(s)/Additional tag(s):** Xiumin as Peter Pan, Luhan as Wendy, romance, pining, love, angst, abandonment issues, fantasy, magic, dark, character death

The first time they meet is as children. Xiumin teaches Luhan how to fly, and soon they’re whirling about the room like unsteady, excitable ducklings, dusting furniture with a fine layer of gold powder as they sail across ceilings swashbuckling pirates for treasure.

“I can’t get in trouble because I’m not bouncing on the bed!” Luhan laughs, just before Xiumin trips over his arm and drops onto a nightstand, knocking it over mid-fall. The footsteps that come up the stairs are heavy and angry and Xiumin disappears out the window with a puff of ticklish laughter before punishment can arrive on his sweet buttcheeks. Luhan is left staring out the window wanting more, his mind still lost in the sensation of flight.

On the second night, Xiumin flies to him with a hand outstretched. “Come with me,” he says, flying Luhan outside the confines of his red windowsill, above the uniform tiled rooftops, the pigeon roost clock tower, and into the twinkle of the brightest star in the night sky. Everything becomes a headache-inducing white—“Close your eyes,” Xiumin says, his voice distant even though Luhan can feel his palm in his grasp—and then the light dims to a warm glow and Luhan looks down to see that they’re flying above a forest of golden treetops. Far below, a group of boys in animal onesies shoot stones and holler at a family of badgers. Ahead, a pirate ship sails across a lagoon dotted with sunbathing mermaids. Xiumin flies beside him, raising an eyebrow as if to say, _“Like what you see?”_

Luhan laughs. “What _is_ this place? It’s so...wow.”

Xiumin shoots him an elfish smile. “Welcome to Neverland, _Foreverland,_  where you’ll never grow old,” he says in a sing-songy voice, and leads Luhan down to a vast hideout on a hill by the forest where they hit the ground running. “Come on, we have to figure out Pip’s treasure map before The Captain takes it from us!” He waves for Luhan to hurry, and within seconds, the brigade of forest critter boys come hooting and galumphing out to meet them. They wave a map drawn in crayon between them like a flag.

The map guides them to the beach. There, something boings, followed by “Oops.” Everyone turns to look at Skunk boy as he guiltily steps off a taut string, one of the dozens of wires Luhan notices is netted across the cove. A sound like a fishing line being wound up echoes off the walls. “Duck!” Xiumin shouts. Rapidly closing in is The Captain, a crazed stuffed man on wheels, pulled toward the area of movement like a giant spider in a web. Its limbs wave like limp noodles, one hand brandishing a hook, the other a gold sword, and Luhan and the forest boys scream as it lunges toward them.

“Ha, ha, parry, strike!” Xiumin shoots out like a dart, countering all of the doll’s random jerks. Luhan hides behind Raccoon boy while Xiumin parries until the doll turns and speeds away like it felt a fresh tug on its net and was needed elsewhere. Surely it was an adult who booby trapped the beach. The thought scares Luhan. Whoever it was, they were a jerk.

The day is long, the afternoon spent with Xiumin showing him diamond caves, frogs in logs, little crabs that scuttle out of reach when they overturn rocks at the cove. They run across rough, scaly beaches and chase seagulls until they find one that won't fly away because its left wing drags at a right angle. Luhan gives it a twig splint, then proudly declares, “I've always wanted to be a doctor.” He sets it in a box lined with cotton. By the time night falls it is dead.

Xiumin feels a distant kind of sadness. Luhan sobs on his shoulder as they send it out at Pearl Coast, where it rolls to an infinite rest across wave after wave of seawater, floating with the support of a million pink pearls from below, little buoys braving rough crests for a heavy ship.

At night, they lie back in the grass and ponder the stars. Luhan yawns widely and passes it onto Xiumin. Something keeps nagging at him. “Xiu, how does this place work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is this heaven? Have I died? Is this some special place God made?”

“God? What’s that?”

“Well, I—” Luhan splutters. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I don’t know about school things! This is Neverland. You don’t go to school, or whatever it is you do in London. All you need here is magic, easy. You just have to believe.”

Luhan forgets all his Sunday schooling. Xiumin doesn’t care, and Luhan doesn’t want to either. “What if you don’t have anything to believe in?”

Xiumin frowns. “I guess we wouldn’t be here then. Maybe we’d just go poof.”

“Poof. My grandpa says we all go poof anyways.” Luhan’s brain processes one step behind. Something still nags at him. That star in the sky…

He sits up like a match was lit under his seat. “Oh, I forgot! My parents! They’re probably wondering where I am—I’ve missed dinner!”

“Wait—”

But Luhan is rising, has already taken flight. Xiumin is left wanting, staring into an empty sky.

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

“I want these papers on my desk filled out by tomorrow.”

“Yessir.” Luhan nods and fumbles with the work, a sinkhole in his chest. He's been feeling that a lot recently.

There’s a knock at his window. “Busy,” he says. Force of habit. Then he freezes and slowly looks outside. Two round, catlike eyes stare back. He screams and drops the papers.

Silence. “Everything okay in there?” asks Tom from the neighboring cubicle.

“Yeah, no, I'm fine. Just...just dropped some papers.” To the window he hisses, “What the hell!” Xiumin wildly gesticulates to the latch and Luhan huffs as he lets him in.

Xiumin topples in, all gangly limbs across the floor. He doesn’t like how Luhan's frowning down at him, arms crossed. Doesn’t like how Luhan is busy now—busy and uptight like he’s holding a sharpened pencil in his ass. Xiumin looks him in the eyes and remembers a day from two summers before, when Luhan was just 19.

 

─── *.｡:｡*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡ ───

 

They’re standing on Luhan’s balcony, backs to the city glimmering below. Xiumin notices how the chapped wind has bitten Luhan’s cheeks a slight pink, and he feels irritated again. Of course Luhan’s not actually blushing—he’s never abashed about anything.

He’s counted three full moons since the last time Luhan visited him. It’s been a restless time. Again, it is Xiumin who seeks him out, Xiumin who comes to London to play. But Luhan is reluctant to fly around in London, reluctant to explore and laugh and shout like they do in Neverland. He says that the people walking the streets will see him floating around like he has an invisible jetpack on, and then he’ll be arrested on suspicion of being a Chinese spy.

Xiumin wants to stomp his feet every time Luhan calmly repeats his same old reasons for not visiting. “Aren’t you a Londoner?” Xiumin asks, an edge to his voice.

Luhan only laughs and shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter here, especially now that it’s wartime.” He clasps Xiumin on the shoulder, suddenly serious. “You should be careful.”

Xiumin shrugs him off. “Why can’t you just let your parents confirm you were born here? Didn’t you say that people have birth papers? Come to Neverland with me! It’ll be quick. Please Luhan, _please_. It’s so boring here.”

But when Luhan’s made up his mind he does not budge, so Xiumin decides to wait him out. Maybe then, Luhan will grow impatient and come to _him_. Xiumin can wait. He can.

 

─── *.｡:｡*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡ ───

 

Today the dewy grass feels cool and refreshing between Xiumin’s toes, the morning chill crisp and biting. Luhan flew into his hideout this morning and crashed loud enough to wake a cow (he’s never been great at landings), and for the first time in years, Xiumin knows what it’s like to wake to see the sunrise. He’s never been a morning person, but now that Luhan’s here—has _finally_ flown here on his own—Xiumin feels awake and jittery like his eyeballs have been stretched open and doused in ice, and he can’t stop chattering about whatever fluff slips into his mind. Something interesting. He wants to say something interesting.

“Have you heard about the loneliest whale in the world, who can't communicate with other whales because he sings in his own unique frequency? I heard he flies around in space, replying to his own songs when they echo back. But maybe he has stars to keep him company. And I've heard that a hunger for company is a good thing to have.” He quiets, watches Luhan crack an egg with concentrated effort. Pipes up again. “Whales are sad animals.”

“No, I haven't.”

“Haven't what?”

“Haven't heard of that. Pass me another egg.”

Xiumin looks down at Luhan’s hands and becomes entranced with how they move.

 

─── *.｡:｡*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡ ───

 

“I call this the Steamboat Sauna,” Luhan says proudly, revealing two bowls of steamy fresh noodles. They eat like space whales. When Xiumin sets his plate down, his face is red. He lies back and closes his eyes with a dreamy sigh like he believes he can flutter his toes and his feet will fly away. “I can die happy now.”

“Well don't. You still have to fly me home.”

The grin slips off Xiumin’s face. He looks at the sky and his gaze goes straight through.

“Come with me. Please. I can’t leave my family behind.”  

Xiumin is quiet for a moment. “But I don’t want to grow up.” _And I don’t want you to, either._ But maybe he’s being selfish. He sees Luhan’s silhouette outlined against the gold of the sunset and then he’s gone, flying a thousand miles home on borrowed pixie dust.

 

─── *.｡:｡*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡ ───

 

Xiumin learns that office romances never work out. Luhan gets off work early to bring Xiumin to his apartment, where they watch romcoms on the old telly. The signal fizzles out often because Luhan hasn’t bought an antenna yet, but Xiumin doesn’t mind, is content with just leaning on Luhan’s shoulder and hearing him laugh, even likes it when the signal dies because then Luhan teaches him how to make shadow puppets in the blank blue glow of the screen.

Luhan cries when Anna confesses her love to her boss Philip, who’s already married, and Xiumin side-eyes him, arching one pointy eyebrow as Anna bawls smudgy eyeliner tears and wrings her hands again and again. Her hands are in love.

Xiumin imagines Luhan’s hands like that. He leans in.

Luhan sniffs, clears his throat. His fingers fidget at his tie. His hands are always doing something, always pointing away, always saying _no, no, no._

After dinner, Luhan teaches him the twist even though Xiumin’s socks keep sliding on the carpet. His legs are too long and awkward and he wants to die from embarrassment.

 

─── *.｡:｡*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡ ───

 

The next time they meet he is 36, and Xiumin still a boy. A creeping sense of sad familiarity drips into Luhan’s bones. The place has not changed—the day is still as golden as ever, the Lost Boys just as woodsy and spirited, and the hideout still glows with makeshift torches draped in starry blankets, but with a sharp twinge of disappointment Luhan realizes that a thin veneer of magic and intrigue has blown away; the summer heat is stagnant and unrelenting, the forest tinier than he remembers, the hideout low and cramped. Loss. He can feel it in the way he swallows when he sees that small figure outlined against the embers of a sooty stove.

At the sound of his footsteps, Xiumin turns around and his face splits into an excited grin. Luhan sees a boy in dirty green tights, a little too far along in his teens to still be playing pretend. His face is streaked with ash. War paint, Luhan presumes. “Hey.”

Xiumin stares up at him, opens his mouth, closes it again.

Luhan laughs uncomfortably. “What are you, a fish?”

“No, I—what are you doing here?”

Luhan shrugs.

“You look weird with wrinkles,” Xiumin says petulantly. He tries to disguise the excitement in his voice, tries to temper the tentative hopefulness with annoyance.

Luhan shrugs again. “Well, I’ve been tired. My father’s sick with something bad, some _acute_ thing or the other. He can’t get up anymore so I won't be able to stop by that often; I've got to make sure he's keeping food down, that kind of stuff.” He looks down at his feet. “I guess I maybe should’ve _not_ dropped out of med school to take care of him, huh? I could’ve tried harder, could’ve done both…”

Xiumin doesn’t know what to say, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “You were a medical student? I thought you worked at an office.”

“Oh, I do. Guess I’m stuck with that now. It’s—it’s okay though.”

Xiumin thinks Luhan sounds rather strained. Xiumin begins to wring his hands, his mind drawing a blank for what else he should say. Somehow he feels like he’s messed up already.

Luhan rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I should get going now.”

Sadness is detachment to Xiumin. Each time, he just smiles and waves like he understands, even though he knows he doesn't. He's selfish like that.

 

─── *.｡:｡*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡ ───

 

Even longer between visits this time. Luhan always bears news, usually bad news. Xiumin starts to fear that Luhan visits him out of obligation, like one does with a senile grandmother or a fat dying cat.

“How are things going?”

“Fine.”

“Fine? Good, good.” He rocks back and forth on his heels, ho-hums and nods to himself like a bobblehead. “I’m a dad now, Xiu. Just wanted to let you know. Pip-pop to a happy baby boy.”

Xiumin’s eyebrows disappear into his cap. This is bad.

“He’s just like you, you know.” Luhan smiles down at him as he ruffles his hair. So _fatherly._ The eye crinkles appear again, deeper this time because it’s a genuine smile. It sets something off in Xiumin.

“I don’t want to hear about your son. He’s not just like me, or you wouldn’t leave me to be with him. Stop lying!” Xiumin pushes him away and watches creases replace the smile lines as he wrinkles his brow.

Xiumin can feel the tears welling up behind his nose, and he hates that. He wipes at his nose furiously and looks up at Luhan, his eyes red and wet. When he speaks, his voice is soft. “I don’t want you to grow old, I want you to _stay._ ” The first fat tears escape and roll down his cheeks and soon he’s taking big gulping breaths as he tries and fails to get a hold of himself. “I feel s-stupid. You don’t care. So f-fine. Go leave.” He’s oversensitive. His head hurts. He imagines the world spinning beneath his feet, flinging him out into space, Luhan disappearing into the distance like a star blinking out.

“Xiu—”

“I’m pathetic, I know.” Xiumin’s voice sounds small and blubbering to his own ears.

Luhan stands there silently, his mouth a perfectly uncertain ‘o.’

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Luhan steps forward and hesitates. Xiumin hugs his knees in closer, curling into a defensive ball like the pillbugs that hide between the floorboards.

“You’re not pathetic.” Luhan studies his shoes as he says this. When had he stopped going barefoot? He studies his shoes, and Xiumin knows he's sorry.

 

─── *.｡:｡*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡ ───

 

Days pass, and then weeks, and sometimes Xiumin can convince himself to forget. Fighting The Captain is enough distraction to put him to bed without feeling completely unfulfilled, but after a while the empty ache just never goes away, and even running through caves with the forest boys begins to feel weary and tiresome.

At home Xiumin does the twist alone, because Luhan taught it to him five years ago and it’s the only move he knows, and when he tires of that he makes expert shadow puppets by torchlight (crows fly from his fingers in darkness), or watches romcoms by himself and cries at the sad parts because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and finally when he’s bored of it all he might steam up some fresh noodles to bathe his face in the warmth that settles over the stove, clouding the windows until he opens a flap to look out into the clear night sky where he might fall asleep with a bowl on his chest and the trails of a few lonely tears dried up on his cheeks. But tonight he doesn’t cry at all; tonight he just stares up at the stars. Searching.

He falls asleep under the stars and dreams that a space whale picks him up and flies him into the sky, away from the unchanging land, away from loneliness, away, away, away. When he wakes up he wonders if his life is real.

 

─── *.｡:｡*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡ ───

 

Today Xiumin is tucked away in an unmarked cave with cotton remnants scattered about the floor. He punches at the stuffed Captain doll. It stopped working a week ago, when he chopped off the remaining arm and it sagged to the ground. He tries to listen to his heart and he thinks he hears it pound. It’s quiet out. The boys are silent, and for the first time ever, the forest’s leaves are falling to the ground as bone dry, spotty brown husks. He remembers when three full moons between visits seemed like forever. Now he doesn’t even know how many moons it’s been. Xiumin raises one lethargic arm and groans. He can’t stand it anymore—it’s time to pay a visit.

Xiumin emerges from the brightest star in the night sky and flies out across the same tile rooftops, the same old clock tower that chimes twelve as he whooshes past and scares a flock of pigeons. There it is, that familiar red windowsill. A thrill of anticipation chases through his spine and he flies faster, coming dangerously low.

What he sees makes him stop and gape. A figure lies by the window, propped up with pillows. How much time has he missed? He doesn’t expect Luhan to be so very _old._ Maybe this is Luhan’s father. Maybe Xiumin is mistaken. But then the old man smiles, and Xiumin’s heart drops because he recognises it. He’s become so much smaller and greyer, and when Xiumin nears him his eyes drift and cloud up.

It strikes him that Luhan has never moved. That this is his childhood home, where his parents have died, and where his grandchildren will grow up. “Why?” Xiumin whispers. He floats outside, sticking his arms in to hold one spotted hand, the skin so thin and soft like jello.

Luhan doesn’t respond to the touch. He doesn’t even look at him. “Luhan,” Xiumin says into his ear. He just shakes his head and frowns a little—it probably tickles. Xiumin swallows the lump in his throat that aches with, _“This is a mistake, this is wrong, this is a mistake,”_ and repeats “Luhan,” more insistently this time, his heart beating with something scared and hopeful and desperate all at once.

But Luhan doesn’t even twitch, and suddenly Xiumin’s angry, angry at this old man in front of him, angry at his blind glassy eyes, his slack jaw hanging open like an idiot, and he blurts, “Look at you, I told you so. I told you this would happen. Why didn’t you listen to me?”

Luhan frowns again, his expression lost and vague. Xiumin’s face burns and he feels his eyes begin to prickle. “I—” He looks down. His voice wavers uncontrollably.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Shocked, Xiumin looks up to see Luhan smiling at him. His eyes have slid into something a little more focused. Xiumin’s heart thuds. “I didn’t think you would come,” Luhan admits, cupping Xiumin’s cheek with one tired hand. Xiumin sniffs, hopes beyond hope that Luhan hadn’t heard, that he doesn’t notice the tears threatening to spill. There’s a baby rattle in his throat. It’s hard to understand. Xiumin leans in expectantly, his eyes wide. “I thought you would forget me. Young minds move fast, you know. I’ve been sick for a while now—same thing as Dad. And I didn't want to burden you. I’m sorry,” Luhan says, and his mouth puckers. He coughs, and it sounds like he's vomiting.

Hurried, pounding footsteps come up the stairs. Xiumin ducks behind the curtain just as a young man slams the door open. “Dad? Dad, I have your medicine.” He rushes to Luhan’s side. “Please, breathe for me.” Xiumin watches as he speaks to Luhan in his soothing voice and waits for his breathing to even out. He spoons a large dollop of syrup into Luhan’s quivering mouth.

It was just like Luhan to take on other people's burdens, to saddle himself up like a sagging, thirsty horse piled high with salt. Xiumin knows that he could have flown back at any time and he feels sick. Eventually, Luhan falls asleep and his son leaves, leaving Xiumin to finally sag behind the curtains and cry softly, so as not to wake Luhan.

It's a golden morning across the rooftops of London. Spring is giving way to summer and the heat has shriveled the windowsill flowers in their pots. The sunrise floods the sky with pink, something Xiumin never sees in Neverland, and for the first time ever, he thinks London might not be so bad after all. “Look, the sun’s up,” he whispers into Luhan’s ear. He jostles Luhan’s shoulder and his head lolls to the side. It is entirely silent but for the buzz of bees outside the window. “The sun’s woken up and you should too,” Xiumin says, gripping his hand this time. “Please.”

Luhan doesn’t budge, so Xiumin doesn’t either. He holds Luhan’s hand until he feels clammy and hot, until countless pigeons have flown past and the sun has risen high, and still he does not let go. He is afraid something terrible and irreversible might happen if he does. He holds on until he hears footsteps again and ducks behind the curtain. “Dad, I have your lunch. Dad!” There is a clatter as Luhan’s son drops the plates and rushes over to shake him.

Xiumin is numb. A doctor arrives by dinnertime and pronounces Luhan dead by 7 o’ clock, when the family should be enjoying mashed potatoes and corned beef. And maybe they are; Xiumin doesn’t know, because at that point he’s flown up into some church rafters and hid behind the giant bell.

He cries bitterly, wheezes like he’s dying. He thinks back to their first time together at Neverland, on that grassy hill where Luhan had asked about God. _“Poof, we all go poof,”_ he had said. He thinks back to when Luhan looked so sad after leaving med school behind and finally comes up with the words he wanted to say; _“It’s not your fault.”_ He thinks of Neverland, all empty and unchanging and dull, and what he will do there now that he’s alone.

Xiumin chokes on his own tears, decides he wants to drown. Father Joseph is shining the pews in preparation for Sunday mass when he overhears the sobbing and assumes the bellboy has finally lost it. He shakes his head and continues to polish.

Xiumin’s heart hurts. What did someone gain from leaving Neverland, only for their life to be over in a blink? How was a short life into adulthood better than eternal youth? Maybe he’d done something wrong. Maybe he should have tried harder to convince Luhan to stay.

He thinks of Luhan’s family, his son who is apparently just like Xiumin, his son who spoonfed him medicine. Maybe Xiumin was the one who hadn’t cared enough; maybe he should have been the one to fly down. Maybe then he would have been the one to give Luhan medicine. Maybe then, he would be old.

Xiumin flies head on into the wind, letting the tears whip off his face from full force of the windy blow. A part of him wants to wallow in frustration at Luhan, frustration at himself. But then despair catches up and something bends and breaks between his ribs.

Sudden numbness. Maybe this, maybe that—it doesn't even matter. None of it does. In that moment, Xiumin gives up his heart, his youth, his soul, and the magic gives up on him. There, the second star to the right. It looks blurry at the edges, and Xiumin assumes it’s the tears.

Lost and confused, he flees under cover of the clouds and tries to dissolve into what used to be the brightest star in the sky. If Luhan had been looking, he would have seen it disappear. If Luhan had been looking, he would have seen an old man crippled with sorrow, hurtling out of the sky like a rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I appreciate all feedback (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ❤️  
> Twitter: [@_Jazzine](https://mobile.twitter.com/_Jazzine)  
> Instagram: [@jazzine_art](https://www.instagram.com/jazzine_art/)  
> AFF: [Jazzine](https://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/1021152)  
> 


	2. Artwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find more of the artist's work at https://instagram.com/jazzine_art

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: [@_Jazzine](https://mobile.twitter.com/_Jazzine)  
> Instagram: [@jazzine_art](https://www.instagram.com/jazzine_art/)  
> AFF: [Jazzine](https://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/1021152)  
> 


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